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By:

Bhalchandra Chorghade

11 August 2025 at 1:54:18 pm

Applause for Cricket, Silence for Badminton

Mumbai: When Lakshya Sen walked off the court after the final of the All England Badminton Championships, he carried with him the disappointment of another near miss. The Indian shuttler went down in straight games to Lin Chun-Yi, who created history by becoming the first player from Chinese Taipei to lift the prestigious title. But the story of Lakshya Sen’s defeat is not merely about badminton final. It is also about the contrasting way India celebrates its sporting heroes. Had the same...

Applause for Cricket, Silence for Badminton

Mumbai: When Lakshya Sen walked off the court after the final of the All England Badminton Championships, he carried with him the disappointment of another near miss. The Indian shuttler went down in straight games to Lin Chun-Yi, who created history by becoming the first player from Chinese Taipei to lift the prestigious title. But the story of Lakshya Sen’s defeat is not merely about badminton final. It is also about the contrasting way India celebrates its sporting heroes. Had the same narrative unfolded on a cricket field, the reaction would have been dramatically different. In cricket, even defeat often becomes a story of heroism. A hard-fought loss by the Indian team can dominate television debates, fill newspaper columns and trend across social media for days. A player who narrowly misses a milestone is still hailed for his fighting spirit. The nation rallies around its cricketers not only in victory but also in defeat. The narrative quickly shifts from the result to the effort -- the resilience shown, the fight put up, the promise of future triumph. This emotional investment is one of the reasons cricket enjoys unparalleled popularity in India. It has built a culture where players become household names and their performances, good or bad, become part of the national conversation. Badminton Fights Contrast that with what happens in sports like badminton. Reaching the final of the All England Championships is a monumental achievement. The tournament is widely considered badminton’s equivalent of Wimbledon in prestige and tradition. Only the very best players manage to reach its final stages, and doing it twice speaks volumes about Lakshya Sen’s ability and consistency. Yet the reaction in India remained largely subdued. There were congratulatory posts, some headlines acknowledging the effort and brief discussions among badminton enthusiasts. But the level of national engagement never quite matched the magnitude of the achievement. In a cricketing context, reaching such a stage would have triggered days of celebration and analysis. In badminton, it often becomes just another sports update. Long Wait India’s wait for an All England champion continues. The last Indian to win the title was Pullela Gopichand in 2001. Before him, Prakash Padukone had scripted history in 1980. These victories remain among the most significant milestones in Indian badminton. And yet, unlike cricketing triumphs that are frequently revisited and celebrated, such achievements rarely stay in the mainstream sporting conversation for long. Lakshya Sen’s journey to the final should ideally have been viewed as a continuation of that legacy, a reminder that India still possesses the talent to challenge the world’s best in badminton. Instead, it risks fading quickly from public memory. Visibility Gap The difference ultimately comes down to visibility and cultural investment. Cricket in India is not merely a sport; it is an ecosystem built over decades through media attention, sponsorship, and mass emotional attachment. Individual sports, on the other hand, often rely on momentary bursts of recognition, usually during Olympic years or when a medal is won. But consistent performers like Lakshya Sen rarely receive the sustained spotlight that their achievements deserve. This disparity can also influence the next generation. Young athletes are naturally drawn to sports where success brings recognition, financial stability and national fame. When one sport monopolises the spotlight, others struggle to build similar appeal. Beyond Result Lakshya Sen may have finished runner-up again, but his performance at the All England Championship is a reminder that India continues to produce world-class athletes in disciplines beyond cricket. The real issue is not that cricket receives immense attention -- it deserves the admiration it gets. The concern is that athletes from other sports often do not receive comparable appreciation for achievements that are equally significant in their own arenas. If India aspires to become a truly global sporting nation, its applause must grow broader. Sporting pride cannot remain confined to one field. Because somewhere on a badminton court, an athlete like Lakshya Sen is fighting just as hard for the country’s colours as any cricketer on a packed stadium pitch. The only difference is how loudly the nation chooses to cheer.

Unholy Pedestal

Lalu Prasad’s disrespect for Dr. B.R. Ambedkar unmasks his hollow legacy.

Bihar
Bihar

A video clip has triggered outrage across Bihar. In it, Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD) chief Lalu Prasad Yadav is seen lounging on a sofa as a supporter places a framed portrait of B.R. Ambedkar - India’s foremost Dalit icon - at his feet during the former chief minister’s birthday celebration. The image, appearing almost as an offering, stayed there while Lalu sat motionless.


The symbolism was unmistakable and the backlash swift. Within hours, The BJP and ruling Janata Dal (United) slammed him for insulting the architect of the Constitution. The State Commission for Scheduled Castes issued a notice to the RJD patriarch, but no apology has been forthcoming from the latter.


Instead, his son and heir, Tejashwi Yadav, dismissed the furore as a BJP fabrication. That defence, delivered with characteristic entitlement, speaks volumes not just about the family’s casual irreverence, but about the cynical decay of a political movement once built on the promise of social justice.


This is not the first time Lalu has shown contempt for the very ideals he claims to uphold. The incident may appear small, but is rich in symbolism. Ambedkar, born into untouchability, gave India its Constitution and generations of Dalits the courage to stand tall. To place his portrait at anyone’s feet (least of all a man who rode to power on Ambedkarite slogans) is grotesque.


And yet, grotesque fits Lalu’s brand of politics. Once hailed as the champion of the backward classes, he now presides over a decaying dynasty that cloaks nepotism in the language of empowerment. Rabri Devi, his wife, was plucked from obscurity to become chief minister. Tejashwi, the son, is projected as chief minister-in-waiting. One daughter is in the Rajya Sabha; another is fielded in the Lok Sabha. Lalu’s politics is not about public service but about family service. The RJD, in practice, resembles a princely estate than a modern political party.


The moral bankruptcy extends beyond family rule. Lalu’s much-vaunted ‘social justice’ has done little to improve Bihar’s fortunes. The state remains one of India’s poorest, with dismal health, education, and employment indicators. The Mandal-era rhetoric he mastered has long since fossilised into vote-bank arithmetic.


What makes the Ambedkar insult particularly galling is Lalu’s long history of invoking the Dalit leader’s name to sanctify his own rule. But Ambedkar stood for constitutional morality, meritocracy and intellectual rigour. Lalu’s career has instead been defined by cronyism, corruption and theatrical populism. He projects himself as a messiah of the oppressed but behaves like a monarch of the entitled.


His one-time comrades Nitish Kumar and the late George Fernandes eventually severed ties with him precisely because of this arrogance and his authoritarianism. The same arrogance is now on full display. The RJD could have apologised swiftly and sincerely. Instead, it chose to stonewall. Is it counting on Bihar’s electorate would overlook the insult or forget it altogether? That would be a grave miscalculation, especially with the Assembly polls looming.


The BJP, of course, is seizing the moment, eager to paint Lalu as a hypocrite and the RJD as anti-Dalit. But political opportunism doesn’t make the charge any less true. The RJP that once sought to unite the backwards and oppressed under a common banner now finds itself exposed: its leader indifferent, its heirs evasive and its ideology hollowed out.


Ambedkar once warned against hero-worship, particularly in politics. He said there was nothing wrong in being grateful to great men who have rendered life-long services but that there were limits to gratefulness. The RJD would do well to heed those words. Reverence cannot be inherited. It must be earned. And if lost, cannot be reclaimed with birthday parties and defensive press releases.


Lalu Prasad may have built his legend on the backs of the oppressed. But in the twilight of his political life, it is clear he no longer lifts them. He only stands on them.

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